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“My dear Mrs. Holmes,” she began, and then sat again for a long time with her pen poised above the paper. Well, her letter might be muddled—her meaning not clearly expressed—but she must do the best she could, and so she continued:

“Mr, Holmes has written to me to say that you are bringing an action for divorce against him, and that you are using my name in order to try and obtain your freedom. I don’t for a moment think that you believe this of me, or of him. You know he would never be unfaithful to you; but you have heard that I was in his room with him the night after you left Tirau, and your quick brain has seized on this as a possible solution for yourself. I know you want your freedom, and I know why you want it. But can you be cruel enough to sacrifice me, whom you professed to like—and I believe you really did care for me—to gain your own ends? I’m not attempting to judge you for the wrong you personally have done to your husband. The last time Mr. Waring stayed at Tirau, I went up after midnight for a book to the schoolroom. I was only there a second, but it was long enough for me to realize that weeks before I’d been a foolish dupe—so concerned and anxious for your safety when I met you walking in the dawn. Yet even now when I remember it, I know that you were very unhappy that night, and I’m sorry for you again, as I was then.

“You want your freedom in order to marry Gerald Waring. When you have got that freedom, are you quite certain that he will marry you? He asked me to be his wife before he left Tirau, and